No mystery this week. Was tending the rat. Last night, Yuki, the rat who bit fingers and hated being scooped up and cuddled, demanded to be taken out of her cage. I tried to settler her in the box, or on my lap, but she was having none of it. NO, went the rat. UP, goddamnit. UP. She pressed herself to my shoulder, over my heart, and refused to be set down. The T had stopped for the night, so I sat there with her, under the collar of my shirt, until the trains started running again. I was afraid she wouldn't want to stay in the box, and considered riding all the way down to Heath Street with a rat tucked inside my winter coat. I remember when I brought the three of them home the first time. I was on my way back from a gig in Allston, and there was a Petco on the way. I had some cash and no rats, and thought I'd be better off the other way around. I picked out the fat one and the speedy one, and then decided I couldn't leave the runty one behind. It was cold and the bus